


Trouble Yet To Come

by harmlessthings



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Cute, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, M/M, Pre-Relationship, and i am weak af, handjobs, it's way longer than i expected it to be but y'know, kind of? i guess?, kuroo is in college, kurotsuki - Freeform, kurotsukki - Freeform, second year tsukki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-08
Updated: 2016-12-08
Packaged: 2018-09-07 07:28:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8789011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harmlessthings/pseuds/harmlessthings
Summary: They’d known each other for a long while now, sure. They’d trained together and played against each other. They’d spoken plenty, more than he admitted to the others. But Kuroo had never just shown up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, looking for all the world like the worst kind of trouble.





	

The text flashes to life on Tsukishima’s phone at quarter past midnight, he’d usually be asleep but he’d found himself restless in the dark. Grabbing his glasses, he squints at the screen. It’s from Kuroo. He tries to not think too much about the excitement he feels - the little rush he gets when Kuroo messages him.

_Long shot, but you up?_

Tsukishima’s fingers hover over the screen for a moment, he let's it sit there for a moment longer, watches the clock in the top corner of the screen tick over a minute. Another minute. The whole time his stomach is tying itself in a neat little knot, and though he touches the screen every time it dims down, threatening to lock, he doesn’t type his reply until a suitable three minutes have passed.

 _Yeah?_ He types back.

Kuroo’s reply comes back almost instantly, and maybe Tsukishima has always told himself that’s just how he is. Kuroo’s not preoccupied with what people see of him, at least not the way he is.

_I’m in town, meet me?_

Tsukki sits upright at that, readjusts his glasses from where he’d haphazardly thrown them on. What is Kuroo doing here? Meet him? What?

_Do you even know what time it is?_

He sends back, not bothering to keep up appearances or make him wait. Tokyo is four hours away, Tsukishima can’t think of a single reason why Nekoma’s former captain would be so far from home so late at night. His phone buzzes again, but instead of a new message appearing, the screen flashes over to the incoming call. It buzzes again. ‘Kuroo T. (Nekoma)’ across the top. It keeps buzzing. Hesitatingly, he answers the call, holds the phone to his ear and waits. Thankfully, Kuroo speaks first.

“I know what time it is, and I know you don’t have any class left so you can’t blow me off for study. Meet me?” Even through the phone Kuroo’s voice is the loudest thing in Tsukishima’s house. He’d thought reading Kuroo’s text had made his chest tighten...but there was something else entirely in hearing his voice. Hearing Kuroo ask for him.

Tsukishima lingers for a moment more, looking around his room, down at his pyjamas, out the window. Just as he opens his mouth to answer, Kuroo swoops in again.

“Just for a little bit, I’m all the way out here. Come on, _Kei._ ” There’s a lilting whine in the way Kuroo says his name, and a risky familiarity. Tsukki isn’t sure if it’s just the way it sounds across the phone but it sounds somewhere closer to sincerity than the usual teasing tone Kuroo loves to take with him.

Tsukishima sighs, getting out of bed before he’s even answered. Again there’s Kuroo, jumping in ahead of him. He’s not spoken a single word.

“There he is.” Kuroo says with a laugh. “For a second there I thought you’d be cross with me, Tsukki.”

He almost kicks himself for wondering where Kuroo’s teasing had gone. He ignores the quip, gives Kuroo his address and a few parting directions. He warns Kuroo in a quietly serious voice that be better not wake anyone up. Kuroo assures him that he’s crossing his heart and Tsukishima can almost picture the idiot drawing a cross over his chest with the tip of his finger - god he hates how clear that image is. After Kuroo says he’ll be there in ten minutes he hangs up, flicks on his lamp, and pulls a pair of jeans from the drawer. It’s not quite into the thick of winter yet, but with the snow just starting to stick, frost coating car windows in the mornings and making grass crunch under his shoes, Tsukki decides to grab his bigger coat from the back of his door after lingering anxiously in his room for an approriate amount of time. The stupidity of what he’s doing doesn’t really hit him until he’s easing the back door closed behind hi and heading out the side gate into the backstreet that runs along the side of his house.

Kuroo is there already, leaning against the fence of another house, dressed exactly as Tsukishima had expected: dark jeans, tight jacket, boots. It was almost ridiculous. Tsukishima pulls his coat tighter around himself, unsure of what to do. They’d known each other for a long while now, sure. They’d trained together and played against each other. They’d spoken plenty, more than he admitted to the others. But Kuroo had never just shown up on his doorstep in the middle of the night, looking for all the world like the worst kind of trouble.

“What are you doing all the way over here then?” Tsukishima asks, the boldness of actually sneaking out of the house still sitting with him, giving him the courage to speak first.

Kuroo pushes off the fence, closing the gap between them more than Tsukki would have. With his hands in his pockets and those boots giving him more height than Tsukki’s thin sneakers gave him, Kuroo tilts his head in that way that always made it seem like he was looking down at you - even though Tsukishima is taller than him. Even these days.

“I was out at Shiogama, visiting some friends.” He says, as if it’s no big deal. Tsukishima narrows his eyes at that, and Kuroo softens in response. “Like I said, it was a long shot. Figured I should try my luck anyway, and here you are.” Kuroo’s seems almost proud about that. 

Tsukishima searches his face for the joke, looks for the snideness in his voice, but there is none. He’s right, though. It was way too easy to get him out here. For someone who usually times their responses so meticulously, who is so careful and selective...it was pretty embarrassing. Without a word Tsukishima turns away, back towards the gate, towards his house, his bed. Hoping to chalk the redness on his cheeks up to chilled midnight air. But Kuroo has hold of his elbow now, his long gloved fingers circling easily around Tsukishima’s arm even with the coat.

“Hey,” Kuroo says, Tsukishima looks at his hand, up at his face. “I’m glad you’re here, okay?” His head nods to the side, down the end of the street. “Come with me?”

Tsukishima reluctantly lets go of the tension in his shoulders, he can feel himself falling for it, for the sound of Kuroo’s voice, the promise in his eyes. A part of him knows that for as long as this goes on, he’s going to fall for it. Every time. Maybe he’s weak like that. So he lets Kuroo lead him away, their shoulders bumping together even though they have the whole street to themselves. Under streetlights and stars Tsukki thinks Kuroo looks different - it’s still weird to remember he’s not in high school, he’s not Nekoma’s captain, even though it’s been almost a whole year now. He’d been surprised when they’d kept on talking after Nationals and into the new year. Kuroo told Tsukishima about Tokyo University, about volleyball tryouts, about his classes and weird old lecturers. In return Tsukki told him about the new recruits, about Ennoshita trying to handle Kageyama and Hinata and the big heads they’d developed at the thought of not being the first years anymore. Something Kuroo had neglected to tell him about, however, was the motorcycle they walked up on two streets over, two helmets perched on its seat. When Kuroo strides over to it, keys clinking as he pulls them from his back pocket, Tsukishima pulls up short.

“What?” He asks, stuck halfway between deadpan refusal and wild confusion. He glances back down the way they’d come, looking back to see Kuroo pulling one of the helmets on. He pauses while fastening the strap under his chin.

“You said not to wake anyone, so I parked over here.”

“I’m not...i’m not getting on that.” Tsukki says, more to himself than to Kuroo. “When did you even get this thing? You didn’t steal it did you….?” He’s half joking. It’s worth it though, even if just for the chuckle Kuroo gives him in return. 

“It’s new-ish,” he admits “but I knew you wouldn’t like it if I told you. I didn’t want to run the risk of you talking me out of it.” Kuroo doesn’t appear to be joking and Tsukishima takes a moment to question how much influence he could possibly have.

 _What does it matter if I like it or not?_ Tsukki wonders to himself. They only spoke every so often, though more often these days, they weren’t best friends or anything...it wasn’t really his place to tell Kuroo what to do. Though he was right, the bike looks like a really stupid idea. Even if Kuroo looks as good as he does swinging his leg over the seat. He holds the second helmet out to Tsukki, the look in his eyes even more concerning than the grin on his lips, but all the more enticing.

“I’m a _great_ driver, don’t worry. It’ll be worth it. I’ll even go as slow as you like.” Kuroo says with a cheeky smile, his voice returning to it’s usual smoothness.

Tsukishima moves forward to take the helmet, turning it over in his hands, surely this is a mistake waiting to happen. He pulls it on carefully over his glasses, fiddling with the strap for a moment before Kuroo leans off the bike towards him, nudging his chin up to fasten it for him. He’s only there for a few moments but Tsukishima can’t help but hold his breath. Kuroo rights the bike, kicking up the stand and holding it steady as he nods for the younger boy to get on. He does so somewhat awkwardly, his feet finding the back pegs and his hands sitting oddly on his knees.

Without a word, Kuroo reaches back for Tsukki, grabbing him by the wrists and pulling his arms forward around his own waist. The shift makes him scoot forward on the narrow seat: his knees bending higher, resting against Kuroo’s sides, chest against his back. The bike roars to life then, over his shoulder Tsukki can see Kuroo’s fingers around the throttle, coaxing the engine to warmth. 

“Where are we going?” Tsukishima asks with a nervous laugh that meets the vibrations of the bike underneath them.

“Not far, I promise.” Kuroo has made him many promises already tonight, and oddly enough Tsukishima trusts that he’s good for them.

They peel away from the kerb, Kuroo’s foot leaving the pavement and the weight of his body balancing the bike as they speed up. Tsukishima finds his arms tightening around Kuroo’s waist as he accelerates, it feels involuntary...despite how aware he is that he’s done it immediately afterwards. The town passes by them on either side, Tsukishima’s heart racing the entire way as the sound of the bike rips through the still night. There’s something thrilling about that sound, perhaps moreso than the speed. The sheer volume of it, loud and unavoidable and intrusive - so much bigger than Tsukishima has ever allowed himself to be.

Kuroo pulls the motorcycle up at a park, it’s on a hill just a little outside of town and when he cuts the engine they just sit there for a moment. Tsukki gets off the bike first, the insides of his arms lamenting the loss of warmth that was Kuroo’s body. Nonetheless he pulls the helmet off, hands it to Kuroo who is still straddling the bike, and runs a hand through his hair. It’s been a long time since Tsukki has been out here, and he wonders why Kuroo has brought them. How did he know?

Tsukishima wanders away, between the trees is a swing set, and further on sits a bench that overlooks the town at this highest point. He rests his hands against the back of the bench, leaning his weight into it and looking out. Kuroo joins him soonafter, and out the corner of his eye Tsukki spots the mess that is Kuroo’s hair. He can’t help but double take.

“It still looks stupid, doesn’t it?” The grin on Tsukki’s face makes Kuroo pout.

Covering his mouth to stifle a chuckle, Tsukishima turns back to the view to let Kuroo fix that god-awful helmet hair in peace. The houses below them are dark but rows of street lights divide the blackness; smaller lanes and side-streets are dimmer, traffic lights on the main road blinking lazily through their cycle from red to green and back again. Speaking to the empty roads.

“You warm enough?” Kuroo asks from beside him. Tsukishima hums his reply.

They stand like that for a minute longer, maybe more, he isn’t really sure, though he feels like he should be more aware - he _did_ sneak out of the house, after all. Get on a motorcycle. Ride to the edge of town in the middle of the night. But for now he’s fine just being here. After the pressures of the school year, the upcoming tournament, graduating third years...it feels nice to just breathe. Out here in air that seems high above it all.

“Why here?” Tsukishima asks with his heart in this throat. Anxious to hear the answer though he’s not sure why.

“I saw it on the ride over,” Kuroo shrugs, hopping up over the bench seat, sitting on the back of it with his feet on its actual seat “thought maybe it might be nice. Quiet.”

“Tadashi and I used to come here, when we were kids, I mean.” He answers, even though Kuroo hasn’t asked him a question. He offers it up freely despite himself.

“Really? Damn, I should’ve gone along with that. That’s way smoother….” Kuroo laughs, as loud as he likes.

Tsukki joins him, moving around to sit on the bench (properly, that is). They stay like that for a while, talking. Tsukishima finally chastises him properly for the bike, Kuroo teases that he got it on it anyway, didn’t he? Kuroo jokes about the professor the two of them had taken to calling The Queen - if only for his ridiculous British accent butchering otherwise fluent Japanese, though Tsukki has only heard it muffled on a snapchat taken under Kuroo’s desk. Tsukishima asks about Bokuto. Kuroo prys jokingly for Karasuno trade secrets he can funnel back to Nekoma. Conversations are easier when Tsukishima isn’t precisely timing his replies, policing his tone, picking his words. Until Kuroo strikes a subject Tsukishima has deliberately been avoiding.

“I bet you’re glad your classes finished up early this term, more time to prepare for the prelims, right?”

Tsukishima nods absently, training had been tough. As soon as you got him in the gym, Ennoshita was hardly as innocent a captain as he seemed. But it was good for them, he supposes, Hinata and Kageyama may be well into their groove with one another on the court now but they both still needed plenty of discipline, and Hinata plenty of training. The thought of the upcoming tournament made Tsukishima nervous with dread, he’s still not entirely sure if this is what excitement feels like. Luckily, Kuroo is still good at filling silences.

“Are your third years sticking around? I imagine they would…” Before Tsukishima even has a chance to answer his question - and yes, they are - he’s talking again. “Have you guys thought about next year’s captain? A lot of teams generally have an idea before heading into Spring, last year it was unanimous for us - had to be Kenma, even if he was surprised about it. Don’t tell me it’s going to be Shrimpy. Kageyama could be good but at the same time…Yikes.” Kuroo pulls a face of mock terror. Tsukki just looks down at his hands, aware that Kuroo may _just keep on talking._

“We haven’t made a decision yet.” He cuts in, his voice too fast. He slows himself down so very deliberately, tossing the words over and over before daring to speak them. “Ennoshita-senpai thinks it should be me.”

And then it feels like nothing is moving at all.

He can see Kuroo facing him, he doesn’t really want to look up but he does it anyway. He can’t get a read on the drawn out expression on his face. The words feel stupid now that he’s said them aloud for the first time. _It should be me_. Yeah, right. There are people who have worked harder, people who want it more, who have improved more. Hinata would undoubtedly scream with excitement, Kageyama taking the confirmation of his skill quietly, Tadashi would be thrilled beyond belief. Why did Tsukishima feel sick?

“Tsukki, that’s amazing.” Kuroo says, his voice shooting up an octave by the time the sentence ends. He jumps off the bench, clapping his hands together. “I was so hoping it would be you.”

“Kuroo-san…” Tsukki says with shock, watching Kuroo pace with excitement in front of him. “We haven’t picked anyone yet...it’s not, it’s not just Ennoshita’s decision.”

“It has to be you. You have to be the captain. It’s the most incredible way to end things. Taking your team through.” Kuroo has come to stand in front of him now. “Karasuno can do it now, and you know your team better than anyone else on that court, you can see them all.” The excitement in his voice makes Tsukishima’s chest ache, his eyes are wide just watching Kuroo. He puts his hands on top of Tsukki’s where they are folded in his lap, gripping tightly. When did he take his gloves off? How are his hands so incredibly warm? “There’s no one else, Kei.”

With the briefest brush of his thumb over the back of Tsukishima’s hand before pulling back, Kuroo sits back down on the bench, half facing him.

“At least think about it.” Kuroo says when he doesn’t answer.

Tsukishima lets himself smile, turning his face away but accepting the flattery, accepting this moment between them.

They don’t stay out too much longer, and they don’t bring up the captaincy again. For the most part they just sit there on that bench, too close for just-friends but not close enough to satisfy the way Tsukki’s hand wants to reach out to his left, to feel Kuroo’s fingers pressed against his own like they had before. Not close enough to feel more than the ghost of warmth radiating off the older boy beside him.

When Kuroo catches Tsukki stifling a yawn he stands up, extending a hand down. Already fixated on those long fingers, Tsukishima takes his hand quicker than perhaps he usually would have, lets Kuroo pull him up. They linger for a second longer before Kuroo reaches into his pocket for his keys, the sound of them clinking together shoots disappointment into Tsukki’s chest.

“I should get you home.” He says.

They head back over to the bike, Kuroo handing Tsukki his helmet before straddling the seat, pulling on his helmet, and pulling his gloves from his pocket in what appears to be one smooth motion. Tsukki stands in front of him, helmet held between his hands as he watches Kuroo pull the leather gloves on over his fingers - what is it with this? Tsukishima demands of himself as he catches himself staring at the way Kuroo wriggles his fingers into the glove comfortably, he reminds himself to breathe. Kuroo catches him too.

“Do you need a hand?”

Embarrassed, Tsukki pulls the helmet on quickly, but in his haste he fumbles with the strap even more than he had earlier. The chuckle Kuroo gives him doesn’t help. 

“Come here.” Kuroo says firmly but affectionately, Tsukishima complies.

His fingers make deft work of the strap underneath his chin, and Tsukishima is in the middle of wondering just how long he’s had this damn motorcycle when Kuroo’s fingers brush down the side of his exposed throat. It must be an accident, though it doesn’t feel like an accident. Especially not with the way Kuroo is looking away quickly, shoving the keys into the ignition and starting the bike. With the stand up, the engine revving, and Kuroo not meeting his eyes, Tsukki walks around to get on behind him. He slides his arms around Kuroo’s middle of his own accord, albeit timidly. When they speed off he rests his head against the broad expanse of Kuroo’s back,

The ride back to his house - or near enough - is much too short. Kuroo kills the bike’s engine and Tsukki wills himself to move. To pull his arms away and get off. He hands the helmet back to Kuroo, who stores it in the back compartment of the bike, under the passenger’s seat. Kuroo takes his off, as well, but carries it with them as they walk back down the same streets to Tsukki’s side gate. With a hand on the latch, Tsukishima turns to face him.

“You’re not going back to Tokyo tonight, are you?” He asks, keeping his voice quiet.

“No no no” Kuroo chuckles in reply “I’ll go back to Shiogama.”

“That’s still an hour and a half, isn’t it?” he presses on, Kuroo just shrugs at him. “That’s too far.” Tsukki muses with concern.

“Worried about me, are you Tsukki?” Kuroo teases, though the sly grin on his face drops when he notices the sincerity in Tsukishima’s eyes.

“You can stay here. If you want to. It’s too late to go so far.” Tsukki’s cheeks feel like they're burning, and he can only hope that it doesn't look as bad as it feels. Or at the very least that it's too dark to notice.

“Are you sure?” All the joking disappearing from his tone in an instant.

Tsukishima just turns back to the gate, pulling on the latch and opening it. He goes in ahead of Kuroo, cutting across his small yard to the sliding door, unlocking it as quietly as he can before taking his shoes off in the laundry. He leaves his own there while Kuroo grabs and carries his boots, lest they be noticed in the morning. Sneaking down the hallway, Tsukishima listens carefully for sounds of anyone else awake in the house, he doesn’t think his parents would particularly appreciate his impromptu guest. He opens his bedroom door, motioning for Kuroo to go in. Pointing to the lamp on his desk, Tsukishima closes the door again and heads back down to the cupboard at the other end of the hall. As quietly as he can manage he pulls down one of the guest futons, the nicer one, and an extra blanket.

When he comes back Kuroo is standing by his desk looking at his things, his notes for volleyball, the paused video of their game against Shiratorizawa flashing to life when Kuroo nudges the mouse. Tsukishima blushes, but turns away quickly before Kuroo can see the redness. He rolls the futon out on the floor, not making eye contact as he grabs an extra pillow from his bed and drops it at one end. He notices Kuroo’s leather jacket draped over the back of his desk chair.

“You, uh, we’re about the same height, you’ll probably fit a pair of pants.” Tsukishima says quietly as he pulls a pair of his sweatpants from the dresser. Allows himself a glance at Kuroo behind him quickly, taking in the wide frame of the older boy. He’s pushed his long sleeves up to his elbows, the material of his shirt pulls snugly against his broad chest. “I don’t know about a shirt, though.” He says apologetically, holding the pants out for Kuroo.

“That’s alright.” He responds, taking them. They stand there for a moment in silence and Tsukishima has never thought of his room as small, but here now with both of them everything seems much too close together, childish even. Kuroo hold the pants up slightly. “So, uh…” He says, and Tsukki catches on almost immediately. Almost.

“Oh,” He says, quickly turning around to face the dresser. “Sorry.” he mutters with embarrassment, realising how stupid he must have looked handing Kuroo a change of clothes and then just standing there, staring at him. What a fucking idiot….

The sound of Kuroo’s belt clinking softly as he undoes it catches Tsukishima’s attention. He feels warmth flood his cheeks, and the sound of a zipper that follows closely is enough for him. Desperate to leave, Tsukki snatches up the pyjama pants and t-shirt he’d thrown in the hamper next to the dresser when getting changed to meet Kuroo, and darts from the room - sure to keep his head down. He doesn’t stop until he’s in the bathroom, the door shut firmly behind him and the cold tiles underneath his bare feet. He switches on the light over the sink and looks at himself. What is it about Kuroo that makes him like this? So on edge at times and yet so relaxed at others? He knows he can’t stay in here forever, so he changes back into his pyjamas, tugging the old t-shirt down self-consciously over his slim chest and lingering a moment longer in the mirror before switching off the light and padding down the hallway to his own room.

Inside, Kuroo is laying down on the futon, long legs stretched out in a pair of Tsukki’s sweatpants, arms folded behind his head on the pillow - on his pillow. Upside-down, he looks at Tsukishima as he enters before sitting up and turning to face him. Tsukishima hesitates, Kuroo looks so at ease in his room, in his space, he wonders when that happened. When did he invite Kuroo into his life like this? Perhaps it just happened, perhaps the shock has long worn off from the days where an invitation to practice put him offside. Where Kuroo snuck around to get his phone number from Sugawara. Somewhere along the way they became friends. It could be nice thought.

Though if they are friends, why does the sight of Kuroo stretched out on a futon on his bedroom floor make his stomach knot? Why does the shared rebellion of sneaking out, and then back in, with Kuroo make his heart race? Why do his legs feel numb as he walks to his bed, shaky as he sits down on it? With his hands on the mattress on either side of himself, Tsukishima attempts to put himself at ease as Kuroo has.

He finds it comes somewhat quickly, Kuroo’s quiet small talk probably playing a bit of a role in that. Kuroo leaned back against his chest of drawers, facing the bed, Tsukishima is half reclined across the length of his bed, resting on his elbows. They talk in hushed voices, shushing one another’s laughs. At points they lapse into comfortable silence. And eventually the clock on the bedside table flashes to 3:00AM - neither of them notice.

“Thanks for letting me stay.” Kuroo says with a quiet voice that goes somewhat beyond just trying-not-to-wake-anyone.

Tsukishima clears his throat “It’s late, too late to drive back to Shiogama, anyway.”

“It would have been alright.” Half-assed nonchalance in the casual set of his shoulders, though he avoids Tsukki’s gaze nonetheless. “Besides, I don’t want to get you in any trouble.

“We should probably go to sleep…” Tsukki whispers. The sudden sincerity in Kuroo’s voice setting off an alarm under his skin. Smartass Kuroo he could deal with. Snide and teasing and immature, easy enough. But Tsukishima isn’t sure what to do with _this._

Kuroo doesn’t say anything, which might be harder. But Tsukishima pushes up off the bed, treading around to his desk to turn the lamp off. The sharp click sounds too loud in the still silence between them. With the blinds still open moonlight washes the room with pale light. As Tsukishima moves back towards the relative safety of his bed, Kuroo’s hand reaches up for him, fingertips hooking around Tsukki’s own. He stops. A light tug has him leaning down, kneeling in front of Kuroo before he even thinks to retreat.

“You’re going to make a great captain.” Kuroo says with a sad smile, but with eyes full of something else entirely. With as much as Kuroo talks about university, about living alone and having fun and, apparently, buying a new motorcycle, but now that he’s looking at the faraway expression on Kuroo’s face, Tsukishima feels as if perhaps Kuroo misses it. High school and trite volleyball rivalries and being Nekoma’s captain. 

Glancing at their hands, still entwined at the fingertips so gingerly, Tsukishima can’t seem to get past the lump in his throat.

“I mean it.” Kuroo says more solidly. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you, Tetsurou.” He replies finally, their eyes meeting.

Kuroo leans forward, with the time it takes for him to shift his weight onto his knees, letting go of Tsukki’s hand but reaching again for his wrist this time...Tsukishima knows what’s about to happen. He doesn’t move, he watches Kuroo’s half shadowed face close the space between them, feels his hand slide up his bare forearm. Kuroo presses his lips against Tsukki’s, slightly parted and so soft. He leans forward into it, anticipation unwinding in his chest so fast it makes his head spin. His hand rests on Kuroo’s knee, and it’s all he wants to be closer to the older boy, though he’s not sure how to make his body do that, his long awkward body. Without leaving him, Kuroo’s hand keeps moving up his arm, over his shoulder, across the side of his neck, before cradling his jaw and cheek like Tsukki was the only thing he was ever meant to hold.

Tsukki moves his hand over Kuroo’s, tracing fingertips over knuckles, holding onto his wrist. They kiss for what seems like an age, softly, slowly, in a way that drives Tsukishima insane. Kuroo’s other hand wandering across the top of Tsukishima’s thigh to his waist. With a grip that is firm without being demanding, just enough to guide him, Kuroo pulls the two of them onto their sides, laying out across the futon. Their bodies fall close together, Kuroo using the leverage on Tsukki’s waist to pull himself closer still. Their chests press together, their noses bump, Tsukki bravely lets his hand drift up into that mass of dark hair, blunt fingernails scraping against Kuroo’s scalp. He feels the flash of a tongue against his lips, opens up just slightly for Kuroo who presses in deeper, closer against him, their tongues warm and wet alongside each other.

Kuroo’s hand moves down Tsukki’s throat - he hums at the way Tsukki presses into that, arching his chin back almost subconsciously to expose more of that pale skin. But he still continues down between their bodies, pausing at the sharp hipbone that juts out just above the waistband of Tsukki’s pyjama pants. His fingers chase along the sliver of skin there, asking for an invitation, not taking anything that isn’t given to him. Tsukki nods against him, despite his nerves.

Yet Kuroo doesn’t slip his hand inside Tsukishima’s waistband just yet. Instead, his palm ghosts across the front of his hips, reaching further down still until he finds the slight bulge of Tsukki, half hard, in the front of his pants. He palms him softly, causing Tsukki to pull away from Kuroo’s lips for a groan to escape him on half a breath. Kuroo continues to press kisses to the side of Tsukki’s mouth, his cheek, the space under his earlobe, while he strokes his cock through his pyjamas and listens to the deliciously quiet pants and whines that Tsukishima gives him in return.

 “Do you want me, Tsukki?” Kuroo murmurs against his lips. The question makes Tsukishima’s chest ache, among other things.

“Yes.” He keens out, sighing his response back into Kuroo’s mouth. Kuroo pulls his hand away and Tsukki finds himself pressing into the space where he had been, a low chuckle from Kuroo makes his cheeks flush. This is so far beyond anything he had ever let himself think of, he doesn’t recognise the sound of his own voice panting out for Kuroo but he didn’t want to stop. Soon enough those long fingers he has watched all night are dipping underneath the elastic waistband on his pants, slipping easily beneath his underwear too, and then, hot and firm and everywhere, Kuroo is holding him. The moan falls from his lips before he can even think to stop it.

The hand not buried in his hair flies to the front of Kuroo’s shirt, his fingers first splayed out wide across his chest before gripping the fabric at his neckline firmly. He lets Kuroo stroke him like that, long and slow, feeling the flex of his muscles and the agonising drag of hot skin against hotter skin. Before he can stop himself, Tsukki’s hips stutter forward into Kuroo’s fist.

“Sorry.” He whispers, present enough to at least realise how desperate _that_ looked.

“No,” Kuroo replies, his voice low and smooth “it feels good, doesn’t it?”

God, it does. The way Kuroo’s fingers tighten around the head of his dick, the pressure and the strokes unexpected in a way he’s never felt before, could never feel by himself.

“Do you want me to make you feel good?” Kuroo asks. As if Tsukki could have replied with anything other than the quiet litany of ‘yes, please, Kuroo, please’ that he strings together against Kuroo’s cheek.

Kuroo withdraws again, the whine at the back of Tsukishima’s throat is hushed by Kuroo lips, quick and chaste, and also by the way Kuroo’s hand pulls down on his pyjama pants, underwear and all, prompting Tsukishima to wriggle out of them, his erection springing free. He’s eager to let Kuroo lead him to wherever they’re going, even if he suddenly feels much too vulnerable like this, kicking his pants off from his ankles. He presses against Kuroo to compensate.

Slipping his hands around Tsukki’s waist, Kuroo rolls onto his back, shuffling underneath the smaller boy while simultaneously pulling him on top and settling his knees either side of his hips. Tsukishima’s eyes are wide, searching Kuroo’s in the darkness. Kuroo’s fingertips trace up Tsukki’s spine, his other hand staying at his hip and pressing him close, encouraging Tsukki to grind down against against him. Tsukki can feel the length of him straining against the front of his pants, he angles his hips into it.

He must lose himself in the movement, the roll of his hips and the pressure of Kuroo’s hand at his hip, moving with him, and Kuroo must have seen it - because he manages to get a hand between them, grasping Tsukki at the base of his now-leaking cock and holding firmly. Tsukki’s breath leaves him in a shudder.

“There’s something I-” Kuroo sounds breathless as well, Tsukishima opens his eyes to see his tongue dart out across his bottom lip hungrily. “I want to do something, first.” His eyes are dark and full of promise.

After a moment longer, to be sure Tsukki is safe, Kuroo lets him go - and despite the way Kuroo’s tight grip had cut out the rhythm he had been on, the heat gathering in the bottom of his stomach, Tsukki still laments the loss of that pressure. The possession, as if Tsukishima’s orgasm belongs to Kuroo and Kuroo alone, makes him dizzy. He moves out of the way with a nudge from Kuroo, giving him enough room to free himself and kick his pants down to his calves. Tsukishima looks down between them, Kuroo is bigger than he is though he’d expected as much. He’s older and stronger and so much more. But save for the flush of warmth that spreads across his own cheeks at the sight of Kuroo, it doesn’t make Tsukki feel embarrassed or intimidated. Kuroo peels off his shirt as well, the wide expanse of semi-tan skin over taught, flexing muscles makes Tsukishima hungry - and at the same time he’s thankful for the way Kuroo has bared himself like this, for him.

Without a word, Kuroo’s hand comes up to grasp them both together, lining their cocks snugly alongside each other. It’s as if the only thing Tsukishima Kei knows how to feel is warmth. Every point where their bodies meet feels too hot; Kuroo’s hands on him, their hips slotted together, his ass against Kuroo’s thighs, Kuroo’s lips at his collarbone. Tsukishima tries to focus, to memorise the feeling instead of getting entirely lost in it, he leans down over Kuroo with his hands either side of Kuroo’s head as he leans down to kiss him. They move slowly, with barely contained insistence brimming right at the surface, both of them wanting so badly to give in.

Tsukishima buries his face in his own shoulder, turning his face away and closing his eyes. The grip of Kuroo’s hand, the slide of someone’s cock against his own, the slickness and the heat and the friction, it’s too much.

“Kei, look at me. Yes, that’s it.” Kuroo’s voice is caught between a whisper and a growl, and it’s all for him.

He wants it to never end, but at the same time he wants more, he needs more. He needs to crash over the edge Kuroo is holding him at. Deliberately, he rolls his hips more firmly into the opposite motion of Kuroo’s hand, testing the waters. Kuroo’s head falls back against the floor and Tsukishima feels the older boy’s cock throb alongside his own. He winces slightly at the way Kuroo digs the nails of his other hand into his thigh just for a moment, but finds himself enjoying the sharpness of it. Tsukki shifts his weight forward into his arms and hands, rocking forward into Kuroo’s grip. He doesn’t take this for granted, his equal part in their pleasure despite his inexperience, he savours the soft sounds falling from Kuroo’s lips knowing he caused them.

The quickening pace of his own hips and Kuroo’s tightening grip brings him closer, so close, to that almost unbearable tension building inside him. Desperately, he wraps his own hand around them both, around Kuroo’s hand and those long perfect fingers. They move against each other like that, but it doesn’t take much more for Tsukki to falter, for his hips to stutter, for him to spill himself across Kuroo’s bare torso. Graciously, Kuroo slows the pace to ease him off, to drag him through the last moments and the warm relief that floods throughout his body. Tsukki is left shuddering above him, breath escaping him in quiet pants. Kuroo’s hand moves up to steady him, his other still working lazily over his own cock.

Tsukki wants to do something, not because he feels he needs to, not because he owes Kuroo something for tonight. He manages to settle onto his side along Kuroo’s outstretched figure. Kuroo’s arm folds nicely around him, holding him close as Tsukishima’s hand wraps around the older boy’s hand. Kuroo guides him through it with his hand before eventually leaving Tsukishima alone, his help in the form of whispered encouragements: _Just like that, a little tighter, yes. More._ Kuroo is hot and heavy alone in his hand, and unbelievably hard. Tsukishima’s determination drives out whatever embarrassment he might have felt.

Kuroo’s face lapses through tension, relaxation, anticipation. Tsukki watches every expression as it passes across his features, catches every bite of his lip, every quiet hiss. He watches Kuroo as he comes, tries to ease off at the right time and not too soon, just as he had.

Tsukishima whispers for him to wait, an unexpected laugh rising in his throat. On wobbly legs Tsukki reaches for the box of tissues on his desk. He’s not even sure where to start with the embarrassment of cleaning his come off of Kuroo’s heaving chest - but as with so many other things this night, Kuroo is on it before he needs to start panicking. Quickly and without snide comment, Kuroo cleans everything up, dumping the tissues in the wastebasket by the desk. They pull their clothes back on, Kuroo pausing to then pull Tsukki into a kiss. Their fingers twine together at their sides and it may just be Tsukishima’s favourite feeling. He blushes at the thought of it, considering what they’ve just done it seems so innocent and yet his face is still flushing with warmth.

So he uses that to pull Kuroo over to his bed, forgetting the futon on the floor they fold together onto the mattress. Though he’s suddenly extremely aware of his body, incredibly self conscious about what he’s doing, what he’s allowed to do….what he allows himself to do. But Kuroo, attentive as ever, is taking over and pulling them closer together. Perhaps Tsukishima should be more concerned with the fast-approaching morning, with sneaking Kuroo out of his bedroom, back to his ridiculously dangerous motorcycle. But for now, with a blissfully tired ache throughout his body, all he can think to care about is lacing his fingers with Kuroo’s and falling asleep.


End file.
